


indulgence

by touchstarved



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I'm so sorry, Just filth, Multi, No beta we fall like Crowley, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader has a vulva, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Teasing, finished this at 4 in the morning, if you prefer other pronouns i highly recommend the interactive fics extension, she/her/hers used for reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 09:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchstarved/pseuds/touchstarved
Summary: “Oh, angel.” You can hear every inch of toothy grin come out in his inflection. “I think she liked that.”





	indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I used she/her/hers to refer to reader, as well as a few gendered pet names, SO I just wanted to add that if you use different pronouns and are on a laptop I would highly recommend the Interactive Fics chrome extension! I find it super helpful for reading fics with (Y/N) but also fics with specific pronouns from time to time.

You’ve been here for what feels like days and days and _ days. _

Your chest heaves beneath Crowley’s hands - it’s a weak attempt to escape, but your body doesn’t seem to register that. He indulges in the feeling of you - the warmth of your skin, the softness; running his fingers down stretch marks, tracing connections between freckles. One hand slips up to your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure, and you moan in spite of yourself.

“Oh, _ angel _.” You can hear every inch of toothy grin come out in his inflection. “I think she liked that.”

“Yes, she did, didn’t you, darling? I would just _ love _ to see her in a collar...”

“Something lacy,” he agrees, and he tightens his hold on your neck - just slightly, just for a moment, and you whimper. “Next time, maybe.”

Your vision is still hazy, your breathing not quite returned to normal, and yet your heart spikes yet _ again _ at the feeling of his mouth on your jaw. You let out a soft noise, your lips parting slightly and your head dropping to the side, at just the right angle for him to kiss you. Hot, open-mouthed; his tongue coaxes yours into a dance, his hands insistent yet gentle on either side of your face. You lose yourself again in the taste of him, in the taste of yourself on his lips, only resurfacing from the fog to protest when a deft hand begins to tease again at your clit.

You buck your hips up - half out of pleasure, half out of the desire to escape. But one of them notices, at least; someone crosses your hips with a forearm, pinning them to the bed. You can do nothing but arch your back and whine as a finger runs down across your entrance. 

“Very nearly ready, I should think.” Aziraphale sounds much too pleased with himself. In your blissed-out, overstimulated state, you feel him press into you, slowly enough for you to feel inch by inch of finger slide in. Just one, but it still _ stretches _; gentle and well-manicured; curling a few inches in to hit that spot, to cause you to buck and moan and edge even closer towards the tipping point. He adds another finger. You clench around it inadvertently, prompting a reverent sigh.

Crowley still has your head cradled against his shoulder. One hand sketches nonsense patterns across your waist, the other sweeping your hair off your forehead as he leans in to murmur, “Color, sweetheart?”

“Mm.” You meet his gaze, let the sight of golden, shining irises ground you enough to mumble back a response. “Gr—_ oh_.” Aziraphale curls his fingers, crooking them up against you, inside you, and angles his thumb back up to play with your clit. You have to force yourself to turn the senseless noises you _ want _ to make into something resembling words. “Green, green, I _ promise_.”

“Good girl. So clever, coming so beautifully, so many times...taking everything we’ve given you.” Aziraphale is practically cooing, rubbing your lower abdomen with his free hand in a way that you assume is meant to calm you, but only fuels the fire. “Such a pretty, brave little thing.”

He slows down the pace of his fingers, nearly to a stop, and you panic. “No, no, _ no… _”

“No?’

“Don’t _stop,_” you whine. They laugh almost in harmony, the sound wine-dark and sweet.

“Oh, but I _want_ to keep you like this.” He bends down and bites your thigh, hard, up near where his fingers are still deep inside you. You gasp, too worn out for a proper cry. “Really, darling, if you’re hoping for us to take mercy on you, you shouldn’t look quite so tempting.” 

“He’s right. The noises alone...” As Crowley speaks, Aziraphale’s tongue find purchase just above his fingers, and any hopes you had of coherency are gone. Crowley arches his neck to kiss you again, swallowing your moans, and doesn’t pull back until you’ve absolutely melted into his touch. You catch a glimpse of a smirk through your half-lowered lids. “Delicious.”

“Very.” Aziraphale is being unnecessarily cruel—his fingers just short of satisfying, coupled with slow, spaced-out licks to your clit until your legs are shaking. If asked, you’re not entirely sure you would be able to remember your own name. 

“That’s it, let go. Relax.” You feel Crowley’s thumb brush your cheek. When he presses it against your lip, you take that same thumb into your mouth, sucking lazily, and you’re surprised by the wetness, by the taste of salt. You don’t know when you started crying, but you don’t know how to make it stop, either. “Careful, angel.”

Aziraphale raises his head. “Is it too much?”

You let your head loll back and forth. Overstimulated as you are, you think you might die if Aziraphale were to stop. 

“Oh darling, _ look _ at you.” He’s pleased, you _ know _ he’s pleased. He takes in the sight of you, spread-out and whimpering in Crowley’s lap, your cheeks shiny with tears. But even now, he takes the time to tease, to torment. “Perhaps we ought to call it a night, then…”

“N-” You let out a great, shuddering breath, and your hands _ reach _ —one up to Crowley, the other down to Aziraphale, fingers intertwined with yours on either end. “ButI_want _..”

“Hm?”

“Yeah, sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Bastards, both of them. But fuck it, you’re desperate.

“Need you. Please…” You squeeze their hands, drag your exhausted eyes open just long enough to meet the blue and gold, pleading so hard in your mind that you’re sure they can feel the want.

It is slow, at first. Teasing, like before, with Crowley helping Aziraphale to bring up one leg, hook it up over Aziraphale’s shoulder as he rocks into you with short, shallow thrusts. He enters you a bit more deeply each time, just slightly, so that by the time he’s fully seated within you, you’re nearly arching your hips up off the bed to meet his.

“Is this it, darling?” You hear his voice above your head and know he’s looking at you, they both are, but you’re too fucked-out to care. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Needed, angel.” Crowley’s hands are everywhere, ghosting over your nipples, splayed out along your sides, his lips on your neck, your temples, your mouth. “Keep going, make her _ beg _ for it.”

“She truly was just made for this, hm?” He begins to thrust harder, eliciting sharp little noises from you with every one. “Such a responsive body, such an eager, lovely little toy. I rather think she’s earned a reward, don’t you?”

“Thought we were saving the collar for next time.” It’s meant as a witty comment, you know. But the shift in tone, the way he slips from crow to growl at the end, betrays his desire, and you find yourself clenching around Aziraphale, who moans in response.

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants. “Come for us, darling. Come for us now, come on.” And you can’t help but obey, all the tension released from your body in one heart-stoppingly glorious rush.

When you come to, you’re curled up across both of their laps, clothed in pajamas and with a glass of water held to your lips. You sip slowly, and one of them makes a sound of approval. 

Eyes still closed, you smile, snuggling deeper into the warmth of them as you drift off into a miraculously gentle sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hi so uh...this is kinda trash? i'll probably go back and fix the tags later  
kudos/comments are love  



End file.
